Forgiveness Will Never Come – Have you ever thought about finding your mother? The question caught Vicky so off guard that she actually flinched. She was in the middle of spreading out her work papers on the kitchen table—a stack so precarious it threatened to topple at any moment, and she held it in place with her palm. Now, she froze, slowly lowered her hands, and glanced up at Alex. Genuine bewilderment shone in her eyes: where had he even gotten such an idea? Why would she try to find the woman who, with a careless gesture, nearly ruined her life? – Of course not, – Vicky replied, keeping her voice as even as possible. – What a silly idea. Why on earth would I do that? Alex looked slightly embarrassed. He ran a hand through his hair, as if gathering his thoughts, and smiled—a little forced, already regretting the question. – It’s just… – he began, choosing his words carefully. – I’ve heard that people from care homes often dream of finding their birth parents. So I thought… If you ever wanted to, I’d be happy to help. Really. Vicky shook her head. Her chest tightened as if someone invisible was squeezing her ribs. She took a deep breath, trying to keep a sudden wave of irritation at bay, and looked at Alex again. – Thanks for the offer, but there’s no need, – She said firmly, raising her voice a little. – I will never look for her! To me, that woman has long ceased to exist. I’ll never forgive her! It sounded harsh, but what else could she say? Otherwise, she’d have to dredge up a whole heap of unpleasant memories and pour out her soul to her fiancé. And while she loved him—truly loved him—there were things she wasn’t willing to share. Not even with those closest to her. So she turned back to her documents, pretending she was busy. Alex frowned, but didn’t press further. He was visibly uncomfortable hearing such a sharp answer from Vicky. Deep down, he just couldn’t fathom her position! For him, a mother was almost sacred—it didn’t matter if she’d been involved in his upbringing or not. The simple fact that a woman had carried a child for nine months, given it life, already elevated her in his eyes to something near celestial. He sincerely believed there was an unbreakable bond between mother and child, nothing—not time nor circumstance—could destroy. But Vicky not only didn’t share this belief, she rejected it, flat-out and without the slightest doubt. To her, it was simple: how could you want to meet the person who’d treated you with such cruelty? Her so-called “Mum” hadn’t simply put her in care—it was much worse. Far more painful. Once, in her teens, Vicky had finally dared ask the question that had gnawed at her for years. She’d approached the head of the children’s home, Mrs. Taylor—a strict but fair woman, whom the children both feared and respected. – Why am I here? – Vicky asked in a quiet but steady voice. – Did my mother die? Or did she lose her rights? Something serious must have happened, surely? Mrs. Taylor stilled. She was sorting documents on her desk, but after Vicky’s question, slowly set them aside. There was a pause, as if weighing each word; then she sighed heavily and motioned for Vicky to sit. Vicky sat, clutching the chair tightly, anxiety churning inside her. She already sensed she was about to hear something that would forever change her understanding of her past. – She lost her parental rights and was prosecuted, – Mrs. Taylor began, slowly, picking her words. She looked at Vicky calmly, though her eyes betrayed concern: she had to tell a twelve-year-old a bitter truth that most would rather hide. She could have softened the facts, but she’d decided—Vicky needed to know. However cruel, it was better than ignorance. She paused to collect her thoughts, then continued: – You came to us at four and a half. It was reported by a passerby—they saw a little girl, wandering alone down the street. You were tiny, confused… Later we learned a woman had left you on a bench at the train station and boarded a commuter train. It was autumn, wet and cold, and all you had was a thin coat and wellies. After hours outside, you landed in hospital. You had a terrible cold; it was a long recovery. Vicky sat as if turned to stone. Her fists clenched, her face impassive—but her eyes grew darker, clouds gathering in their depths. She said nothing, but Mrs. Taylor saw her absorbing every word, even as her world was turning upside down. – Did they find her? Did she say why? – Vicky finally asked, barely above a whisper, fists still tight. – They found her and she was prosecuted. Her excuse… – Mrs. Taylor paused, then gave a bitter smile. – She said she had no money, then a job came up. But—detail—the employer wouldn’t allow children on-site; you were a hindrance. She decided it was easier to leave you and start a new life. Vicky’s hands loosened, dropped onto her knees. She stared ahead, seeing nothing, her mind drifting to that autumn morning she didn’t even remember. – I see… – she managed, in a flat, nearly lifeless voice. Then, meeting Mrs. Taylor’s eyes, she added: – Thank you for your honesty. In that moment, Vicky knew with absolute certainty: she would never look for her mother. Never. The fleeting, occasional curiosity—maybe, someday, to look her in the eye and ask ‘why?’—evaporated entirely. Leaving a child outside… She couldn’t make sense of it. Could a mother truly have no conscience or compassion? Anything could have happened to a four-year-old alone on the street. “It’s not human, it’s monstrous,” Vicky thought, pain and anger building inside. She tried—she truly did—to find an excuse. Maybe her mother was desperate? Had no choice? Maybe she’d thought it was best for Vicky? But every theory collapsed in the face of cold reality. Why not officially hand her to the council? Why not take her to care properly? Why abandon a tiny child, alone, in the cold? No explanation fit. Nothing eased the pain or turned the betrayal into necessity. It looked the same every time: a calculated, cold-blooded decision to get rid of a child as if she were an unwanted thing. With every turn of these thoughts, her resolve hardened. No. She wouldn’t look for her. Wouldn’t ask questions. Wouldn’t try to understand. Nothing now could change what was done. Forgiving that was beyond her strength. And with that decision came a strange, almost physical sense of freedom… ******************** – I’ve got a surprise for you! – Alex positively glowed, like he’d just won the lottery. He stood in the hall, rocking from foot to foot, clearly itching to reveal whatever he’d planned. – You’re going to love it! Come on! We can’t keep someone waiting! Vicky froze in the doorway, cold cup of tea in hand. She shot Alex a puzzled glance, then cautiously set her mug aside. What was this surprise? And why, despite his excitement, did unease coil in her chest? Like a taut string, ready to snap at any moment. – Where are we going? – she asked, steadying her voice. – You’ll see soon! – Alex grinned wider, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the door. – Trust me, it’s worth it. Vicky followed, her anxiety only sharpening. As they headed for the park, she tried to guess. Tickets to a show? Meeting an old friend? None of her ideas seemed likely. In the park, she immediately noticed a woman sitting alone on a bench. She was neatly dressed: a dark coat, scarf, small handbag on her knees. Her face seemed oddly familiar, but Vicky couldn’t quite place it. Maybe Alex’s relative? Or colleague? Alex led them straight to the bench. As they drew close, the woman looked up and gave a slight, nervous smile. At that moment, Vicky felt something shift inside—she knew at last why the face was familiar. It was her own, older by thirty or forty years. – Vicky, – Alex’s voice rang out ceremoniously, as if announcing something on a stage, – I’m thrilled to say: after a long search, I found your mum. Are you happy? Vicky froze, feeling the world halt. How could he? She’d made it so clear she never wanted to see this woman! – Darling! You’ve grown so beautiful! – The woman surged to her feet, arms outstretched. Her voice trembled with emotion, her eyes gleamed, as if she were truly glad to meet her daughter. But Vicky jerked back, putting space between them. Her face turned to ice, her gaze steely. – It’s me, your mum! – The woman persisted, ignoring or not seeing Vicky’s reaction. – I’ve been searching so long! I’ve been thinking about you, worrying all this time… – It wasn’t easy! – Alex added, his voice full of pride. He stood just behind, beaming. – I called in friends, phoned agencies, tracked down leads… But I’m so happy it worked! His words were cut off by a sharp, unmistakeable slap. Vicky’s hand had flown without thinking. Her eyes brimmed with tears—grief and fury mingled. Staring at her fiancé, bewildered, she silently demanded: How could he? Hadn’t she told him a thousand times she wanted nothing to do with her mother? – What is wrong with you? – Alex gasped, clutching his cheek. He hadn’t seen that coming. – I did this for you! I just wanted to help, to do something good… Vicky was silent, unable to speak—rage and hurt churning inside her. The man she trusted had pulled the rug from under her feet, breaking her single inviolable rule: don’t touch her past. The secrets she’d hidden so carefully now dragged out into daylight, all because of his “good intentions.” The woman glanced helplessly between them, as if seeking an escape. She wanted to say something but fell silent when she saw Vicky’s face. – I never asked you to find her, – Vicky murmured at last. Her voice was level, though she shook inside. – I made it very clear—I don’t want this! And you went ahead anyway! Alex dropped his hand from his cheek, but had nothing to say. He searched her face for any softening, any hint she might forgive—but he saw only cold resolve. – I said I don’t want to hear about that woman! – Vicky’s voice trembled with fury. Her look wasn’t mere hurt—it was a deep, festering wound now ripped open. – That ‘mother’ left me on a train station bench when I was four! Alone! Where anything could have happened! Do you really think I could ever forgive that? Alex went pale, but stood his ground. He straightened, determined: – She’s your mother! Doesn’t matter what she did! Mother is mother! At this, the woman stepped forward, voice tentative, as if trying to excuse herself but not believing it: – You were ill a lot, I couldn’t afford medicine – she started, choosing every word. – This was a chance to earn! I would have come back for you, I swear! Once things worked out… Vicky whipped around, her gaze icy. – Come back for me from where? The graveyard? – Her words were cutting but she could no longer hold back. – You could have told Social Services you were struggling! You could have left me at a hospital if I was that ill! But not on the street! Not in the cold, not alone and defenceless! Alex, desperate to stem the swelling conflict, tried to take her hand. His fingers wrapped around her wrist but she wrenched away. – The past is past, you have to move forward, – he insisted, almost pleading with her—and himself. – Didn’t you always say you wished you had family at your wedding? I made your wish come true… Vicky fixed him with a look so full of disappointment that Alex actually took a step back. – I invited Mrs. Taylor, the care home head, and Mrs. Grant, my key worker, – her voice was quiet but steady. – They are my real family! They were there for me when it mattered. They supported me, cared for me. They are the only family I need! She jerked her arm free, and without a backward glance, ran from the park. Her feet carried her blindly through alleys and flowerbeds, away from the conversation, the words, the man she’d trusted most. Inside was a storm so powerful she could barely breathe. She’d never expected betrayal like this from the man she loved. She’d held nothing back from him. She’d told him the raw truth of her childhood, not softening the edges. He’d nodded, listened, said he understood. And yet, he’d still found that woman. Still brought her. “Doesn’t matter what she did, she’s your mother”—those words ricocheted in her head, stoking fresh bitterness. “Never!” Vicky swore to herself. She would never let that woman into her life. Never pretend. Without slowing, she left the park and wandered the streets, barely noticing where she was. Her thoughts tangled; her mother’s face kept flashing before her eyes—older now, anxious, trying to smile. Vicky clenched her fists, pushing it away. She only wanted to get far from all of them. She didn’t even return for her belongings at Alex’s flat. Luckily, there weren’t many things left: a couple of bags, a few personal items—the real move was planned after the wedding. Most of her stuff was at her council flat anyway. That made it easier. Above all, she couldn’t go near that place right now with her emotions so raw and every memory of Alex hurting anew. Her phone vibrated over and over—Alex calling again and again. She saw his name but ignored it. She feared that if she answered, she’d snap, say things she’d regret. Best to wait for the anger to cool a little first. But Alex didn’t give up. Besides calls, he left several voicemails. His voice was sharp, almost angry: – Vicky, you’re acting like a child! I tried to make things right, and you… You’re just ungrateful! This is a tantrum, pure and simple! The next message was even more forceful: – I’ve made up my mind. Linda will be at the wedding. End of story. I won’t be swayed by your moods. We’ll keep family ties, and our kids will call her Grandma. That’s normal, that’s right! Vicky listened to the messages at a bus stop, feeling herself shrink inside. She switched off her phone and looked up at the sky. Her world had just cracked, and she couldn’t see how it would ever mend. She stared at her screen, where Alex’s last messages sat unread. His words still echoed in her mind—absolute, unyielding, leaving no room for compromise. “Linda will be at the wedding. Full stop.” The lines hammered into her memory with every beat of her heart. She opened her messages, typed a brief, clear reply. No ambiguity: “There will be no wedding. I don’t want to see either of you—ever.” She pressed send. Watched the delivery tick, then slowly set her phone down. Almost instantly, the screen lit up—Alex was calling again. Vicky didn’t move. Then more messages came, but she didn’t even read them. Instead, she opened her contacts, found her almost-husband’s number, and blocked it without hesitation. Peace descended—no more buzzing, no alerts, no attempts to break through. Silence wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, bringing a rare moment of calm. Maybe, later, she’d regret her decision. Maybe… But now, in this moment, it was the only right thing. She felt the storm inside her subside, leaving only tired, quiet clarity. This was how it needed to be. She had no future with someone who could do something like this…

There Will Be No Forgiveness

“Have you ever thought about trying to find your mother?”

The question came out of nowhere and startled Victoria. She was in the middle of spreading out work documents across the kitchen tablethe pile was so precarious she had to keep it steady with her palm. Now, she froze, her hands slowly dropping as she looked up at Simon. Utter disbelief flickered in her eyes. Where on earth had he got that idea from? Why would she ever want to track down the woman who, with a careless flick, had shattered nearly everything in her life?

“Of course not,” Victoria replied, trying to keep her voice even. “What a ridiculous suggestion. Why would I do that?”

Simon seemed a little embarrassed. He raked his fingers through his hair, as if gathering his thoughts, and offered a thin smilea smile that hinted he already regretted asking.

“Its just” he began, searching for the right words. “Ive heard so many stories about people from care homes and foster families wanting to find their birth parents. I just thought if you ever fancied it, Id help you. Honestly.”

Victoria shook her head. She felt a sudden tightness in her chest, as if some invisible hand had squeezed her ribs. She drew a deep breath, fighting down an unexpected wave of irritation, and met Simons gaze squarely.

“Thank you for the offerbut that wont be necessary,” she said firmly, her voice a touch louder than before. “I would never go looking for her. That womans been dead to me for years. Ill never forgive her!”

Yes, it was abrupt, even harsh, but there was no other way. Otherwise, shed only have to dredge up painful memories and pour her soul out in front of her fiancé. No, she loved Simon, deeply, but there were some things shed never want to sharenot even with those closest. So she reached back for her papers, pretending to be engrossed in urgent tasks.

Simon frowned but let it be. He was clearly stung by her sharp words and, deep down, simply couldnt understand her position. To Simon, a mother was almost sacredregardless of what role shed played. The mere act of carrying a child for nine months, giving birth, elevated her to a pedestal in his eyes. He believed mothers and children shared a unique, indestructible bonduntouchable by time or fate.

Victoria not only disbelieved this; she flatly, unequivocally rejected it. It was all so blindingly clear to her: how could you long for a reunion with someone whod been so ruthlessly cruel? Her so-called mum hadnt simply handed her over to a childrens homeit was worse than that, far more wrenching.

Years ago, as a teenager, Victoria had finally plucked up the courage to ask the question that had gnawed at her for as long as she could remember. She went to see Mrs Taylor, the head of the childrens homea firm but fair woman whom all the children respected.

“Why am I here?” Victoria asked, her voice quiet but unflinching. “Did my mum die? Or did she lose custody or something? It must have been something serious, right?”

Mrs Taylor hesitated, putting aside her paperwork and taking a moment before inviting Victoria to sit.

Victoria lowered herself onto the chair, gripping the seat nervously. Waiting, she knew she was about to hear something that would change her understanding of her past forever.

“She lost her parental rights and was prosecuted,” Mrs Taylor began carefully, weighing every word. Calm as she seemed, there was concern in her eyes. She was about to lay a harsh truth before a twelve-year-old girla truth that many would have buried. She could have softened the details, but Mrs Taylor had decided years ago that Victoria deserved honesty, no matter how cruel it sounded.

She hesitated, collected her thoughts, and went on:

“You arrived here when you were four and a half. Some passers-by spotted a little girl wandering alone along the High Streetlooking lost, frightened, utterly alone. Later, we learned a woman had left you on a bench at Chelmsford station while she caught a commuter train out of town. It was autumncold and dampand all you had on was a light coat and a pair of wellies. After hours out in the cold, you ended up in hospital. It took months for you to recover from pneumonia.”

Victoria sat as if made of stone. Her fists clenched unconsciously, but her face remained blankonly her eyes went shadowy, as if a storm were gathering. She said nothing, listening intently, absorbing every word, though inside her world was spinning.

“Did they find her? What did she sayher excuse?” Victoria whispered, knuckles still white on the chair.

“They found her and brought charges. As for her reason” Mrs Taylor paused, then gave a sad smile. “She claimed she had no money. A job offer came up, she saidbut the employer didnt allow children on-site. Easier, apparently, just to leave you behind and start again alone.”

Victorias fists slowly unfurled. Her hands flopped onto her lap. She stared unseeing, lost deep in an autumn morning she couldnt even remember.

“I see,” she said at last, her voice flat and toneless. Then she looked up at Mrs Taylor. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

In that moment, Victorias resolve became absolute: she would never go searching for her mother. That faint, lurking curiositythe fantasy of one day looking her in the eye and asking whyvanished, once and for all.

To leave a child on the streetshe couldnt comprehend it. How could anyone do that? Had the woman who gave her life truly felt no conscience, no compassion? Anything might have happened to a four-year-old left out in the cold.

Thats no act of a human beingits sheer savagery! Victoria repeated silently, and her insides contracted with a sharp, bristling ache. Shed tried, genuinely tried, to find a shred of justification. Maybe her mother was desperate? Maybe she had no choice? Maybe she even had Victorias welfare in mind?

But every argument collapsed before the facts. Why not simply apply to put her in care? Why not hand her over properly so shed be safe? Why gamble with her life on a cold, empty street?

Victoria ran through the explanations in her mind, but nothing fit. Nothing softened the blow or turned betrayal into necessity. It was all the samecold, conscious, calculated: dispose of the child like unwanted rubbish.

Those thoughts fostered in her a hard, unyielding certainty. No, she would never seek that woman out. Never ask. Never attempt to understand. No understanding could ever mend what had been done. And forgivenessshe was incapable of that.

With this came a strange, almost physical sense of relief

************************

Ive got a surprise for you! Simon was beaming, as though hed just won the National Lottery. He was loitering in the hallway, twitchy and barely able to contain his excitement. Youll love it! Come oncant keep people waiting!

Victoria hovered on the bedroom threshold, a cooling mug of tea in her hand. She eyed Simon sceptically, before carefully placing her cup down. What sort of surprise? And why, in spite of his cheery tone, did an uneasy dread grip her chest like a vice?

Where are we going? she asked, trying for a calm voice.

Youll see! Simon flashed a broader grin, took her hand, and drew her towards the door. Trust me, its worth it.

She didnt resist, but worry twisted in her gut as she dutifully grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes and followed him out. All the way to the park, Victoria puzzled over what hed arranged. Tickets to a play? Dinner with her old university friends? Each guess was more unlikely than the last.

At the park, she immediately noticed a woman waiting on a bench along the path. Well-dressed in a smart, dark coat, scarf, and with a neat little bag in her lap. There was a vague familiarity about her face, but Victoria just couldn’t place it. A friend of Simons mum? One of his colleagues, maybe?

Simon led the way confidently; Victoria trailed behind, still piecing together the puzzle. When they drew close, the woman looked up and gave a tentative smile. And suddenly, it hit Victoriashe knew that face. If she added on thirty or forty years, it was like looking at herself in an old mirror.

Victoria, Simon announced, his voice pompous, like he was presenting the results of a grand quest on TV. After a long search, I’ve found your mum. Arent you happy?

Victoria stood frozen, the world abruptly stilling around her. How could he? Shed made it perfectly clearshe didnt want anything to do with that woman!

Darling! Just look at you, youve grown up so beautiful! The woman leapt up, arms outstretched for a hug, her voice trembling with emotion, her eyes sparkling as if nothing could have brought her greater joy.

But Victoria took a sharp step back, putting distance between herself and her so-called mother. Her expression was icy, her posture stiff.

Its me, your mum! The woman pressed on, apparently determined not to recogniseor simply ignoringVictorias stone-hearted reaction. Ive searched so long for you! I thought about you every day, darling, I truly did

“It wasn’t easy,” interjected Simon, sounding very pleased with himself. He stood just behind, grinning from ear to ear. “I had to call in favours, ring all sorts of offices, pull every string I could But its all worked out!”

His words were cut short by a swift, stinging slap. Victorias hand flew before she even registered it; tears of pain and fury stood in her eyes. She stared at Simon, disbelief written all over her face. How could he do this? Shed told himtime and againthat her mother was a closed chapter, forever.

What are you doing? Simon gasped, clutching his cheek, reeling at her reaction. I did this all for you! I thought itd be a good thing

Victoria remained silent. Not a word could escape past the torrent of indignation and hurt. The man she trustedher closest confidanthad pulled the rug out from under her feet, smashing her cardinal rule: never, ever touch the past. What she had buried so deeply inside was now out in broad daylight, due to his good intentions!

The woman darted glances between the two, clearly at a loss for what to do. She opened her mouththen thought better of it, confronted by her daughters stoney glare.

I never asked you to find her, Victoria said at last, voice even but trembling within. I told you plainlyI didnt need this! But you did it anyway!

Simons hand dropped from his cheek; he fumbled for a reply but found none. He searched her face for a hint that shed relent, but was met only with a look of implacable resolve.

I said it loud and clear: I dont even want to hear about that woman! Victoria shook with suppressed rage. Her eyes glimmered with ancient, buried painpain Simon had just torn open afresh. That mother of mine abandoned meat Chelmsford station! I was four! Alone! In the freezing cold, with god knows who hanging about! And you think I ought to forgive her?

Simon turned ashen, but didnt give up. He straightened, as if to bolster his words. Shes your mother! It doesnt matter what shes done. She gave you life!

At last, the woman shuffled a half-step closer. Her voice was thin, apologetic, and unconvincing even to herself:

You were always ill, I had no money for medicine she began, clutching at any explanation. That job, it was a chance to earn. I always meant to come back for you, darling. Once things settled, wed have been together again.

Victoria rounded on her, her voice hard as steel, any lingering pity long since burnt out.

Come back from wherethe grave? Her words cut sharp. You couldve gone through Social Services, declared yourself unfit if things were that dire. You couldve left me at the hospital, if I was so poorly! But on a park bench? In the cold? Alone?

Simon, helpless, tried to steady her by taking her wrist, his grip gentle. Victoria shook him off, not even sparing him a glance.

The past is pastyouve got to move on, he pressed on, desperation mounting. You always said you wished youd had family at your wedding. Ive made that come true

Victoria fixed him with a look of such profound disappointment that Simon actually took a step back.

I invited Mrs Taylor, and Miss Portermy nursery worker. They were my real mums! They got me through the bad days! They cared, they taught, they fussed and worried. They are my family.

She wrenched her wrist free and walked away without a backward glance, across the park, past the benches and flowerbeds, away from the conversation, the confessions, away from the person shed trusted most. Her hurt raged so fiercely it was almost hard to breathe. Of all the things Simon could have donethis betrayal was the least expected.

Shed never hidden anything from him. Quite the reverseshed told him every bit of her story, open and honest, no sugarcoating, no pretence. Described the months in care, the endless years waitinghoping, hopelessly, that her mother would show up. Simon had listened, nodded, promised he understood. And still, hed gone and tracked the woman down. Still, hed brought her here. Doesnt matter who she isshes your motherhis words rang in her head, filling her with fresh waves of bitterness.

Never! Victoria vowed. Never would she let that woman into her life. Never would she pretend nothing had happened.

Not slowing her stride, she left the park and found herself on the pavement, barely noticing where she was heading. Thought after jumbled thought raced through her mind; from time to time the image of her mothers anxious, ageing face flashed before her eyes. She clenched her fists, banishing it. At that moment, she needed only one thingdistance.

She didnt even bother going back to Simons flat for her things. Thankfully, there wasnt much therejust a couple of bags, a handful of personal belongings. The proper move had been planned for after the wedding, which meant almost everything was still at the studio flat provided through the council. It made things simpler. She just needed to stay away for now, while her heart was still raw and every thought of Simon burned.

Her phone buzzed over and overSimon, calling incessantly. Victoria watched his name flash up on the screen, but let it ring. She was terrified shed explode, say something shed regret forever. Better to wait, let the first wave of pain pass.

But Simon wouldnt let go. When the calls stopped, the voice messages started, his voice sharp and indignant:

“Victoria, youre behaving like a child! I tried my best for you, and youre just being ungrateful! This is a tantrum, nothing but a tantrum!”

The next message was bolder:

“Ive made up my mind. Anne will be at the wedding. End of. Im not changing my decision because of your moods. Well maintain family ties and our children will know their grandmother. Its normal. Its right!”

Victoria listened, standing at the bus stop, feeling only that cold tightness in her chest. She turned the phone off, shoved it deep in her pocket, and stared at the cloudy sky. Her world had just split right down the middle, and she had no idea how to piece it back together.

She stared at the screen for ages, Simons final messages frozen there. His words echoed in her earshard and final, shutting down all hope of compromise. Anne will be at the wedding. Full stop. The phrases seared her brain, refusing to let up.

She opened the messaging app and typed a single, crisp message: There will be no wedding. I dont want to see either of younow or ever.

She tapped Send. For a few seconds, she stared at the tick confirming delivery, then slowly set the phone aside.

Almost immediately, the screen lit upSimon was ringing again. Victoria didnt move. A few more messages came in, but she didnt bother to read them. Instead, she scrolled through her contacts, found Simonnow her exand blocked him with no hesitation.

At last, the phone was quietno ringing, no pings, no attempts to reach her. Silence washed over Victoria, warm and soothing in its relief.

Maybe, later, shed regret her decision. Perhaps But here, now, in this one moment, it felt like the only thing she could do. And as the storm inside her quietened, what was left wasnt angeronly a clear, weary certainty.

It was for the best. She couldnt imagine a future with a man capable of such a betrayal.